Gail Ranstrom - A Rake by Midnight

The twins flanked her as they headed toward the fireplace at one end of the ballroom, nodding at acquaintances as they passed. Their progress was slow and perfectly timed to coincide with the end of the reel.

Gina had been watching the dancers and when they stopped she turned her attention back to the group at the fireplace. Surprise coupled with a twist of her stomach shot through her. There stood a lovely woman of average height with glossy black hair and eyes nearly as dark. Her fair complexion deepened with the pink of a blush as she recognized Gina’s face. The woman from the tableau—and she was engaged to Mr. Metcalfe!

Hortense performed the introduction. “Miss Eugenia O’Rourke, I am pleased to present our dearest friend, Miss Christina Race. Miss Race, please meet Miss O’Rourke.”

Gina noted the tiny plea in those eyes. Clearly the woman did not want to acknowledge their previous acquaintance. How could they ever explain that away? She took a deep breath. “Miss Race, how nice to make your acquaintance. I pray you will not hold these two against me,” she said with a nod toward the twins.

The woman smiled and squeezed Gina’s hand in gratitude. “If you will do the same, Miss O’Rourke.”

Harriett arched one elegant eyebrow. “Come now. Our reputations are not quite that bad.”

Laughing and jesting with a young man over her shoulder, Miss Metcalfe returned from the dance floor and was quickly introduced. “O’Rourke? Is your sister the one who finally tamed Lord Libertine?”

Gina frowned, unfamiliar with the title.

Hortense laughed. “She means Andrew Hunter, Gina. That was our pet name for him until your sister domesticated him.”

She smiled. “Yes, then. Isabella married Mr. Hunter and they seem quite content.”

Miss Metcalfe sighed as she fanned herself. “That gives the rest of us hope, then. If he succumbed to the parson’s mousetrap, there can be hope that one of us might yet snare James or Charles Hunter.”

“I…I wouldn’t know, Miss Metcalfe.”

“Yet I saw you dance with James,” she said, almost like an accusation. “That is, until he sneaked you out to the garden.”

Gina was taken aback by the woman’s bluntness. “He was doing his duty to me, Miss Metcalfe. And reminding me to mind my manners.”

Miss Metcalfe fell silent after Gina’s rejoinder and Hortense introduced her companion. “Miss O’Rourke, may I present Mr. Adam Booth? Mr. Booth, please meet Miss O’Rourke.”

The man bent over her hand and a flicker of something passed through his eyes as he straightened and met her gaze. “Have we met, Miss O’Rourke? I could swear I’ve seen those remarkable eyes before.”

He’d been at the tableau. Had he been at the ritual? She slowly withdrew her hand from his and forced a smile. “You are too kind, Mr. Booth. I doubt we have met since I have not been much in society. In any case, I am certain I’d have remembered a gentleman as handsome as you.”

He grinned and the tension went out of his posture. “Well, I shan’t forget you again, Miss O’Rourke. Alas, I must be off to meet friends but I pray you will save me a dance ’til the next time we meet.” He bowed over her hand.

She gave him a stiff smile. Had there been something familiar in his request, or was she being overly sensitive? “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Booth.”

Alone now, the ladies proceeded to discuss Mr. Booth and his various attributes—the width of his shoulders, the color of his gray-blue eyes, the size of his…bank account. Gina relaxed, the conversation so similar to those she’d had with her sisters long before any of them married.

“And you, Miss O’Rourke? Who do you prefer?” Miss Race asked.

“I am far too new to the scene to have a preference,” she said, though Jamie Hunter’s face came to mind.

“My dear,” Harriett said, “I know just what you mean. Why, if Miss Race hadn’t already taken Mr. Metcalfe, I might cast my cap in that direction.”

Gina seized that opportunity. “When am I to meet Mr. Metcalfe?”

Missy Metcalfe rolled her eyes heavenward. “I can’t imagine where he’s been keeping himself. Between his friends and his club, we scarcely see him at home anymore. Why, Christina sees him more than we.”

They all turned to Miss Race for confirmation.

“I, uh, did see him earlier tonight. I believe he said he was gambling with a few of his friends.”

“Men,” Hortense said, as if that explained everything.

Miss Race drew herself up as if she’d made a sudden decision. “Accompany me to the ladies’ retiring room, Miss O’Rourke? I’d love to hear about your native land. I’ve never been to Ireland, though Stanley and I have discussed taking our wedding trip there.” She linked arms with Gina, leading her away from the group.

When they were out of hearing, Miss Race pulled Gina into a private corner. “I must thank you for not giving me away. I saw that you recognized me, too, and I prayed you would not mention it to the others.”

Gina gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’d have had to give myself away, Miss Race, and I was not about to do that.”

“Call me Christina,” she said before rushing on. “And I want to assure you that I do not frequent such places as the one where we first met. Stanley had been invited by some of his friends and did not understand the sort of…affair it was to be, or he swears he never would have taken me. And I…well, I could see that you were not accustomed to such things either.”

“I had never seen a complete stranger unclothed before. But to do so in such a public manner, and in such a pose, was a great surprise to me.”

“Wicked London,” Christina murmured. “There is quite a different world here than the one we inhabit, Miss O’Rourke.”

She weighed the risk of mentioning Mr. Henley so soon, but she hadn’t much time herself. “You must call me Gina, then. Meeting you has been quite fortuitous. You see, I am actually looking for some of the people in our group that night.”

The woman shuddered. “Why?”

“I lost something that night, and I believe one of them might have it, or know where it is.”

“I cannot recall anyone finding something that night. But I wish you luck of it, Gina, and I must say I admire your courage. For myself, I hope never to see any of them again.”

“Oh. I understand.” Gina turned away.

“I did not mean you!” Christina stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Did you know them all—the people in our group?”

She shook her head and looked down at the floor as if searching her mind. “That was the first time I stole away to go anywhere privately with Stanley. I did not know many of his friends, then, and I have not seen those particular ones since. Most were like you, complete strangers.”

“Would you ask Mr. Metcalfe if he remembers that night, and who was there? If he would be willing to meet with me, perhaps I could persuade him to help.”

Christina looked doubtful. “I shall ask him, of course, but I think he’d rather leave that night in the distant past.”

“Tell him that I urgently and desperately need his help. Tell him that my entire future depends upon it.”

Christina searched her face and then nodded. “My goodness! What did you lose?”

“Something irreplaceable. Something I must recover.”

“But of course I shall tell him, my dear. The very next time I see him.”

“Tomorrow?” she urged.

“I… Yes. Are you going to the Albermarle crush Tuesday next?”

She recalled seeing that name in the calendar and stack of invitations Lady Sarah had given her and nodded.

“I shall ask him to accompany me there.”